


(Just Like) Starting Over

by jeffygoldbwum



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bisexual Carl, Carl is 16/17, Carl is a bit of a power junkie, Carl is a savior now and its great, Dubious Consent, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Incest Jokes, Lucille - Freeform, Mentor/Protégé, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Negan flirts with Rick and its awful, Possessive Behavior, Public Display of Affection, Torture, around that age anyway, bisexual negan, mostly just Negan being a creep, not a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeffygoldbwum/pseuds/jeffygoldbwum
Summary: After mulling over the events of the day that he sneaked into the Sanctuary and Olivia and Spencer were killed by Negan, Carl Grimes decides that he wants to leave his life at Alexandria and the rest of the group behind and join the Saviors.





	1. Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): This is my first work that I've posted online but I'm pretty proud of where it's going, so here goes! I'll try to update as often as possible, probably at least once a week.

Memorizing the patterns in the stucco on his bedroom ceiling had become a nightly occurrence for Carl; he had given up trying to sleep at night weeks ago, and now his ears still rang from hearing the gunshot that killed Olivia when he was standing right next to her earlier that day. He still felt guilty for having left Alexandria to enact the foolish plan of killing Negan. If he had not given Negan a reason to return to their home, Olivia and Spencer would still be alive and Eugene would not have been taken by the Saviors. Carl also could not stop thinking about what Negan had said and done to him when he was at the sanctuary. He could still hear Negan’s low voice telling him about his wives, telling him to sing, discussing Carl’s mom. Although the older man terrified him, Carl was also ashamed to admit that he was exhilarated by the power that Negan wielded. He had also been appalled by the sensitivity that he was shown by Negan when he broke down in the bedroom. Was it possible that Negan had shown empathy, or even compassion? Carl had never imagined that somebody with such an intense ego and lack of empathy could be as sensitive toward anyone as he was to him, Rick Grimes’s son.  
He turned to the side in his stiff bed and tried to shut the Sanctuary out of his mind. Guilt filled his heart; he should be mourning the dead that they lost, not admiring their killer. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about a brief moment that he had at the sanctuary; Negan had walked away a moment earlier after addressing the citizens, and Carl stood on the overpass staring down at the dozens of people who were previously looking up to their leader. That brief second of fantasy filled the teenager’s veins with adrenaline and pride.  
“You see that? Respect,” Negan had whispered to him as they both stood not a foot apart from each other on the balcony. “Cool, huh?” Negan leaned in closer to the teenager. “They’re still on their knees.” His voice was barely audible, but his hissing excitement was prominent.  
The bed began to feel as though it was disappearing, and without realizing it, Carl fell asleep.  
Frantic and hushed tones carried from down the hall and roused Carl from his already unsteady sleep. Carl sat up in his bed and glanced out of the window of his second story bedroom, and he noticed that although the sun had not quite begun to rise, a fluorescent streetlamp down the road cast his room in a faint gray and blue light. When he listened closer to the voices down the hall, he could recognize that it was Rick and Michonne that were speaking, although he could not make out what they were saying. He heard Negan’s name mentioned a couple of times, and something came up about Spencer. He squinted at his watch in the dim light. _Was it really 2:30 in the morning? Why don’t Dad and Michonne just go back to bed?_ Carl sighed and laid back down, finding himself once again staring at the small shadows cast by the stucco. He closed his eyes after several minutes.  
“Arat,” Negan’s voice echoed as he gestured to the Alexandrians. “Kill somebody.”  
The curly haired savioress did not take a second to consider before she removed her gun from its holster on her hip. In what seemed like both a split-second and an eternity, Arat whipped around to the right and raised her gun straight toward Carl. Sparks shot out of the barrel of the pistol as she pulled the trigger, and a shot rang out that echoed off of the walls of the buildings in the vicinity and left a ringing in Carl’s ears. _Bang_. Carl’s eye widened as he expected the bullet to hit him and he glanced at his dad’s shocked expression, but the bullet never came. It instead buried itself in Olivia’s face with an explosion of blood and bone, and she fell down next to him. Carl dropped to his knees next to the dead woman lying on the porch. His stomach turned slightly at the sight of the hole in her cheek, and he turned to Negan in disbelief. He thought he caught a brief second of a worried look on Negan’s face when they made eye contact, but the man quickly turned back to smile at Arat.  
Carl groaned and shook his head harshly, trying to force the vivid memory out of his head for the time being.  
_Bang._ He shook his head again, rubbing his temples.  
_BANG._  
“STOP!” He yelled at no one in particular, but his voice seemed to shut out the gunshot that was echoing in his head.  
The hushed voices from down the hall ceased. Suddenly, he heard footsteps quickly closing in on his bedroom door. “Carl?” Michonne’s voice called gently from several feet away from the closed door. He quickly laid back down and yanked the thick blanket over himself, facing away from the entrance to his room.  
The door creaked open, and Carl assumed that Michonne was poking her head into the dark room to make sure that the teenager was okay. The door lingered open for a moment, and Carl could feel her presence in the doorway. He tried to keep his breathing steady and his body still. Maybe he should tell her about what was bothering him… What other chance would he have to get the guilt off of his chest? Before Carl could make a decision, Michonne quietly left the room and shut the door behind her.  
Carl sighed in both regret and relief and decided that he would try to go back to sleep again, hoping that the memory of the day would stay out of his head at least until the morning. He felt a tear begin to crawl down the side of his face and make its way into his hair as he laid on his back, thinking. He did not bother to wipe it away.


	2. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still a bit of exposition; I wanted to add a scene from the next episode to fill in for time passing

“No way in hell! That was _not_ the deal!” Gregory yelled as he paced his large office. Sunlight filtered in through the tall windows on the wall of the room, casting cool natural light on the walls, the dozens of books on shelves, the desk in the centre of the room. “You people swore you could take the saviors out and you failed, so any agreement we had is now DONE—null and void.” Carl wasn’t processing much of what the leader of the hilltop was saying; he was still thinking about yesterday. Carl, his dad, and several others from Alexandria had traveled to the Hilltop to try to convince Gregory to use the Hilltop’s citizens to try to take out the Saviors, but the man seemed adamant about his negative stance on the matter. Jesus, Maggie, Rick, and Michonne were listening intently to what Gregory was saying. Sasha, Rosita, and Tara exchanged worried looks after his statement, and Daryl leaned against the bookshelf behind the group, his arms crossed.  
_Wouldn’t it just be better to try to make peace with the Saviors_? Carl considered suggesting this, but he knew that his dad would never hear of it. Hearing his dad’s voice snapped Carl out of his daydream.  
“Gregory, we already started this,” Rick pleaded frustratedly.  
“ _You_ started it!”  
“ _We_ did!” Rick corrected, gesturing between himself and Gregory. “And we’re gonna win.”  
“These are _killers_!”  
“Is that how you want to live?! Under their thumb, killing your people?” Rick stepped back incredulously.  
“Sometimes we don’t get to choose what our life looks like.” Gregory seemed to be feigning wisdom with this statement. “Sometimes, Ricky, you have to count the blessings you have.”  
“How many people can we spare?” Maggie stepped forward and leaned on one of the fancy chairs sitting next to Gregory’s desk. “How many people here can fight?”  
“’We?’” Gregory laughed. “I don’t even know how many people we have, _Margaret_ ,” he answered spitefully. “And does it even matter?”  
Carl crossed his arms and stared at Gregory as he went on and on about the Hilltop’s supposed lack of formidability, the Alexandrians interrupting occasionally.  
Rick’s loud voice broke through the petty arguing with a straightforward question: “Would we be better without the Saviors, yes or no?!”  
Gregory resigned sarcastically. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”  
“So, what will you do to fix the problem?” Michonne asked Gregory. Carl was amused by her tone of voice; she sounded as though she was trying to talk to a toddler who would not do as they were told.  
“I didn’t say we had a problem, you did. And what happens outside of my purview is outside of my purview.”  
“What the hell, man?” Daryl demanded roughly, speaking for the first time since they arrived at the hilltop. “You’re either with us or you ain’t. You’re sittin’ over there talking out of both sides of your mouth.”  
Gregory sighed and stood up slowly, pulling down the sleeves of his coat jacket. He spoke slowly, articulating his point. “I—I think I’ve made my position very clear. And I want to thank all of you for not being here today, and not having this meeting with me or—or being seen on your way out.” He hesitated, dropping the façade. “In other words, go out the back.”  
An uncomfortable moment of silence filled the room like a choking fog after Gregory’s statement. Carl maintained his stare at the older man until Rick nodded toward the rest of the Alexandrians, and they slowly filed out of the room. Daryl, Maggie and Michonne followed behind Carl. Tara and Sasha muttered hateful bickering about Gregory as they exited; something about knocking his teeth out.  
“We don’t need him anyway,” Daryl muttered as he exited the room.  
“Yeah, that’s right. ‘Cause we have Maggie and Sasha and Jesus here,” Rick replied. Carl heard the door to the manor swing open as Maggie spoke.  
“And Enid,” she added. Enid entered the house and Carl suppressed a smile as the contempt he felt from the previous discussion left his heart, and his chest loosened up when he saw her.  
“Hey, um—“ She started. Her voice was labored as if she had been walking in a rush to where they were, and her breathing was heavy.  
“What’s wrong?” Maggie interrupted the younger girl.  
“Nothing. Just… Come outside.” Enid smiled as she answered Maggie and exited back out the door. Carl waited until the rest of the group except for Daryl had left the house before exiting. The sunlight burned as his eye adjusted from the stuffy manor to the rich outdoor sunlight as he stepped onto the concrete portico. A large group of people, a little more than a dozen; was standing outside waiting for them.  
“What’s going on?” Maggie asked gently.  
A middle aged black woman stepped forward. “Hey. So, if you don’t remember, I’m Bertie, and I owe my life to you all, twice over. A bunch of us do.” She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. “Enid says that you wand Gregory to get us to fight the Saviors with you. Is that true?”  
Carl heard a hopeful tone creep into Maggie’s voice when she replied. “Yes.”  
“Do you think we can win, that we really could beat them? Us?”  
The hopefulness turned into surety. “I do.” A moment passed.  
Bertie sighed. “Enid says you could show us the way. I’m ready.” General words of agreement rang out among the crowd when Bertie finished.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Carl saw Rick and Michonne glance at each other with an air of both skepticism and hopefulness. He could not help turning his gaze from the crowd to Enid, who was standing several feet to his left. She looked back at him almost immediately and he gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back and shrugged humbly, and she turned away as her face turned a slight shade of pink. Her hair fell in front of her face, and Carl could no longer see her expression. The Alexandrians exchanged a few words among themselves before they stepped off of the portico and began to make their way back to the front gate, despite Gregory’s adamant order to exit through the back. Enid started to blend in with the crowd, but Carl stopped her before she could.  
“Hey,” he said gently as he gently touched her shoulder. “What made you do that?”  
Enid squinted, the beaming sun getting in her eyes. “Do what?” She asked, a smile creping into the corners of her pink lips.  
Hesitating, Carl gestured toward the crowd of Hilltop citizens which was beginning to disperse as the Alexandrians intermingled with them. “Talk to all of these people about the saviors.” He did not mean to have an air of admiration in his voice, but he could not help it; he was smiling too.  
She shrugged again, her smile growing wider. “I knew what you guys came for, I guess. And I knew that Gregory wouldn’t be an easy egg to crack.” She glanced behind her, back toward the group; they seemed to be talking indistinctly about the plan to beat the saviors. “I think they’re abandoning us,” Enid joked. “We’d better start heading that way.” She glanced down at Carl’s hand discreetly, but he noticed and took her hand in his. He knew that his hand must have been sweaty from both the heat and his nervous excitement, but she didn’t seem to mind. Their fingers locked together and they tried to catch up with the group. Carl knew that they were probably discussing important stuff, but he again wasn’t remotely paying attention to what they were saying until the group stopped as Jesus spoke.  
Jesus held up a bulky walkie talkie. “It’s one of theirs; long range. We can listen in, keep track of them.”  
“So if we’re not going back, what are we doing, then…?” Michonne asked hesitantly.  
“I think it’s time we introduced you to Ezekiel,” Jesus answered. “King Ezekiel.”  
Rick broke in after a moment. “’King’?” he asked incredulously. Carl was also confused, and a brief glance at everybody else proved that they were lost as well.  
Jesus smiled slightly at their confusion. “He runs a town about forty miles south of here, past Alexandria. He might be able to help us.”  
Carl saw Rick glance at each of the Alexandrians before replying. “Well, let's be on our way then." He requested for the gate to be opened, and Carl watched the rest of the Alexandrians quickly file out of the Hilltop while he lingered in the back with Enid. Reaching the area where the grimy cars were parked, Carl opened the passenger-side door to the white Toyota that they had ridden in for Enid, and he crawled inside the car after her. Rick gave up his seat behind the steering wheel to Jesus and took the passenger instead.  
"You said that it was forty miles south from Alexandria?" Rick asked Jesus.  
"Forty miles from here," Jesus corrected. "We're going to pass Alexandria to get to the Kingdom."  
Rick glanced at Jesus. "That's what he calls his outpost?" An air of amusement crept into Rick's voice when he asked the question.  
Jesus nodded, and Rick didn't say anything else. Carl wished that he had; he wanted to know more about what kind of person Ezekiel could be and what they should expect, but he figured that he would just have to find out for himself when they arrived.


	3. Carl's Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your patience during the wait!

“Turn left here,” Rick told Jesus as they were about to reach Alexandria. Jesus hesitated before turning the steering wheel into the short driveway of the town entrance.  
“You forget something?” Carl inquired; it was the first thing that he had said for the 30 minute long drive. He felt Enid glance at him from his left when he spoke. They were still holding hands from earlier.  
Jesus put his foot on the brake as the guard signaled to somebody behind the wall, and the large metal gate began to creak open. Rick turned around to face Carl and Enid in the back seat. “You and Enid are staying here while we go meet this King Ezekiel,” he said carefully.  
“What?!” Carl and Enid demanded in unison. Carl didn’t want to just stay in the town while the rest of them met a possible ally; he needed to go with them to the negotiations.  
“We don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, Carl.” Rick had a pleading tone in his voice, but Carl was not going to hear it.  
“I don’t care!” His hand tightened around Enid’s as his voice raised to a shout. He sighed, trying to keep his calm. “The more people we have when we go there, the better. They need to know that we have numbers too.”  
Rick shook his head. “Son, you can’t change my mind on this. I’ve been thinking about it on the whole drive.” Carl looked past the front seat and saw that the gate was fully open, the suburban houses of Alexandria in his view. He looked back at his dad. “Please, Carl,” he pleaded. Part of Carl knew that his dad was only worried about his safety, but that somehow made him more bitter with the treatment he was receiving, as if the group thought that he was less capable than the others just because he was sixteen years old. Carl sighed and shoved the back door of the grimy car open and stepped out onto the driveway.  
“Rick,” Enid leaned forward, her voice also biting with anger “I appreciate your worry, but I’m not your kid. I’m going to the kingdom with you, and that’s my decision.” Carl’s heart sank as she pleaded her case. He didn’t want to be left to rot in Alexandria while the rest of his dad’s inner circle negotiated with a new ally; who would he have to talk to? Rosita? _Gabriel?_ He wouldn’t want to talk to anybody so soon after Olivia and Spencer’s deaths and Eugene’s abduction. Well, anybody except for Enid. Contempt welled up in his chest. There was a moment of silence between Enid and Rick.  
Rick sighed. “All right, but you stay close to Michonne and myself while we’re there.”  
Enid leaned back against the seat in relief, and Rick and Jesus looked at Carl expectantly, as if waiting for another protestation. Carl said no words, but Enid jumped when he slammed the door of the car shut in fury. He stepped back from the Toyota.  
Rolling down the window, Rick leaned out. “We won’t be gone for long, Carl. Expect us by this evening.” Carl only nodded curtly in response. Rick hesitated as though he was going to say something more, but he decided not to and rolled the window back up.  
The gravel crackled under the weight of the tires as Jesus backed the car out of the driveway and back onto the road and continued on their way without Carl. The teenager sighed and crossed his arms as he watched the car leave, making eye contact with Enid as she glanced out of the rear window back at him. Once the small white car was blocked from his view by the tall unkempt foliage, Carl trudged his way up the driveway and through the gate. Tara was on gate duty. She smiled at him, but he didn’t greet her as he usually did; instead he made his way straight to his two-story light-gray suburban house, stomped up the porch, opened the bright yellow door and slammed it shut behind him. The glass door window rattled from the impact. Leaning against the white wall perpendicular to the door, he tried to steady himself; his head was swimming. He was not sure why he was getting as angry as he was.  
Taking a deep breath, he took off his hat and started to walk down the hallway, but he hesitated. “Is anyone here?” He called into the house, his voice echoing slightly. No response. After another moment, he continued down the hall and stomped up the stairs and opened the door to his small room, throwing his hat like a Frisbee onto his bed and kicking off his mud-stained boots next to his door. He ran his hands through his hair, loosening his brunette locks as he made his way to the bathroom. He flicked the switch next to the door and the fluorescent lights on either side of the small mirror flickered on. His face was red from the outdoor heat; he hadn’t quite cooled down yet. His forehead and cheeks shone from a light layer of perspiration, too.  
After a moment of staring at himself in the mirror, he reached behind his head and pulled off his bandage for the first time since Negan had left the day before. It was slightly damp from sweat as usual, and there was a small stain on the pad from his almost-healed wound. He hesitated before looking at himself in the mirror; he didn’t like seeing his own missing eye, much less letting other people see it. He always made sure that there was nobody around when he changed his bandage. He raised his eye to his reflection and pulled his hair out of his face, wincing when he saw the hole where his eye used to be. It was the first close look he had gotten at it in weeks; he usually tried not to look too closely at it when he changed his bandage, but now he examined the details in the hole. Negan was right, it did look pretty badass from an outside view. The tissue had solidified into a dark red shade. The skin surrounding the gaping hole was marred and jagged. When he raised and furrowed his eyebrows the wound ached a bit, and the scar tissue stretched and strained from the movement. It doesn’t really look that bad, he thought. He looked to the left and out the west-facing window; it was nearly golden hour, and the sun was already barely touching the tops of the trees on the outskirts of the town.  
A knock on the front door downstairs made Carl jump before he heard it creak open. "Carl?" A feminine voice called.  
"Yeah, I'm here," he replied.  
"It's Tara." Tara. Carl sighed, wanting to be left alone. "Are you okay?" The front door shut, and he heard her begin to casually climb up the stairs. He panicked when he remembered that his bandage was not on his face and was still in the bathroom.  
"I'm fine," he answered quickly as he frantically pulled his hair in front of the right side of his face. "Just kinda want to be left alone."  
Tara's approaching footsteps stopped. "Oh," she said. "Okay, let me know if you need anything." Her voice was thick with sympathy. Carl could tell that she was reluctant to leave, but he was grateful that she did. The sound of her boots on the wood receded as she backtracked down the stairs and left the house, closing the door behind her. Carl sighed in relief.  
A quiet babyish cooing came from the room next to his, and he bolted upright, realizing that he must have awoken Judith by yelling down to Tara. He stood, quickly stepped across his room and rounded the corner into Judith’s nursery after opening the door. She was sitting upright in her crib, nibbling on her fingers, and she giggled when she saw him. He started to enter the room, but he changed his mind at the last minute, hesitating before closing the door behind him and going back to his room.  
He laid on his bed and closed his eyes, feeling as though his whole body was slowly spinning in circles as he felt himself falling asleep.  
He gasped and sat up, completely awake again. He looked out his window; it was pitch black outside now, except for the same streetlamp that he could always see from his room. He could also see slightly over the wall around the town; several cars were parked in a small patch of overgrown grass. However, he couldn’t see the car that his dad had taken to the Kingdom. _When were they going to come back?_ The worry was replaced with spite as Carl remembered his dad not letting him come with him.  
He turned and sat on the edge of his messy bed, hanging his head in his hands. The whole town had been acting off toward him since Negan had taken him home, including Rick; the citizens would either give him the silent treatment or speak to him as if he had an incurable deadly disease.  
" _Respect_." Negan's voice echoed in his head over and over again.  
He turned around and looked back out at the parked cars. His bed creaked as he crept across his bed and over to his window. He slowly lifted the glass, groaning when he noticed the screen on the other side. Wincing, Carl pushed slightly on the sides of the screen until it popped out and almost crashed below, but he caught it just in time and carefully pulled it back into his room and leaned it against the wall at the end of his bed.  
Carl’s boots made a harsh scraping sound against the overhang above the front door after he quietly climbed out of his bedroom window, the cold and night air chilling his face. He lowered his legs over the edge of the overhang and dropped to his feet on the front stoop, his heels aching from the 8 foot drop and wincing at the loud noise his boots made when they hit the bricks. He sprinted to the place where he and Enid snuck out of town and climbed the small rungs stuck in the pole, groaning when his feet crunched on the grass on the other side. Trying to be as quiet and quick as he could, he sprinted through the grass and opened a car door, climbed in, and quietly shut it behind him.  
For a moment, he just sat on the cold fake leather driver’s seat, trying to catch his breath and ponder what he had just done. He could turn back now if he wanted. His dad might be home soon, and he couldn’t leave Judas alone in the house.  
He shook the thoughts out of his head and pushed down the emergency break and felt the car roll forwards into the road in front of the gate. He carefully steered the car until it faced away from the town, not turning it on until it had rolled down far enough away to not be heard over the sound of the trees and wind. The car coughed to life as Carl turned the key in the ignition, switched on the lights, and pressed on the gas. His hands began to sweat as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to follow the same path he followed two days ago.


	4. The Lukewarm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl returns to the sanctuary to be met with a slightly less-than warm welcome from the saviors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right! Savior Carl is back. The semester is finally over and I'm going to try to revive this work out of the ashes! Let's hope that it sticks this time. Thank you for everyone's patience during the hiatus.

A few wrong turns and an hour later, Carl could barely see the dark roof of the Sanctuary rise above the tops of the trees around the curve of the road. He slightly lifted his foot off of the gas and narrowed his eye as the surrounding fence came into view, keeping his eye peeled for the patrols that constantly guarded the perimeter. He shifted into first gear as he approached. Leaning to his right, he opened the glove compartment and slowly pulled out a small handgun as a precaution, and he slid it into his belt. As he squinted his eye, he could see several patrols clutching their guns and eyeing the car as he inched closer. Carl stopped the car about thirty yards from the gate and cautiously opened the door, three saviors quickly hustling toward him as he did so: two muscular women and one slightly shorter and larger man, who he recognized as the man who brought Negan back Lucille at Carl's last visit. Jason? Joseph? He couldn’t remember, but all he knew now was that they were all carrying large assault rifles and were rapidly approaching him. All three of them clutched their firearms in paranoia, their knuckles visibly turning white as Carl stepped out of the car.  
He raised his hands in surrender shakily as his boots crunched on the gravel below him, anxiety churning his stomach. "I'm here to talk to Negan," he said before they could ask. They didn't reply; they merely glanced at each other. A moment of silence passed as Carl awaited either an invite inside or a gun to the face. He cleared his throat. "I'm Rick's son, I came from Alexan--"  
"We know who you are, kid. We remember you," one of the women interrupted roughly; she had light blond hair pulled back in a tight bun and a linear tattoo on the side of her neck. As he looked at her longer, he recognized her too; she had always come to Alexandria with Negan whenever he would pilfer their belongings. "What do you want?" She asked skeptically.  
Carl sighed. "I already told you, I need to talk to Negan. _The_ Negan. Are you going to let me in or not?" No reply; the three still clutched their guns, raising them slightly. Carl heard the words spitting out of his mouth before he could stop them; “I bet your _boss_ wouldn’t take too kindly to you shooting down his best chance at getting something from Alexandria.” He swallowed, realizing how aggressive he sounded; he was pushing his luck. They all looked at each other questioningly, as if communicating nonverbally about what to do about this teenager that just charged up to their doorstep.   
Carl quickly forgot about what they were thinking; several dozen yards behind the three Saviors in front of him, Carl could see someone else briskly approaching; he had blond shaggy hair, a leather vest and worn gray jeans, and had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.  
Dwight. Carl's heart began to pound; he knew how much Dwight despised him. The blond man stopped cold in his tracks when he seemed to recognize Carl, then he resumed his walk with more purpose, heading straight for the teenager.  
Carl felt his stomach tense and his jaw clench in anxiety, but before he could decide whether to return to the dingy car and speed away, Dwight’s rough hand was clenching the back of Carl’s flannel collar and dragging him forward toward the Sanctuary. Carl choked at the uncomfortable feeling.  
“You picked a hell of a time to play homecoming, you little shit,” Dwight growled, not looking down as he hauled Carl away from the car and the trio of Saviors behind them. Carl was struggling to stay on his feet; he had forgotten how strong Dwight was for someone so seemingly skinny. He glanced up at the man’s mangled face as he straightened himself up in an attempt to writhe out of the man’s grip, to no avail.  
“What’re you talking about?” The teen spat back defiantly, but he received no answer.  
Passing the large chain link fence that separated them from the walkers, the large gray building loomed over Carl as they crossed the small gravel truck yard, and he remembered how insignificant he felt the last time he had “played homecoming.”   
_The white gravel and dirt dug into Carl’s elbows as he lay on the ground, looking up past the outstretched gloved hand in front of him and into the imposing man’s dark eyes. The persistent growling of walkers and the clinking of their rotting bodies hitting the chain link fence were the only noises for a few tense moments._  
“C’mon, kid,” said Negan’s deep, accented voice as he smiled down at him. “I’ll show you ‘round.”  
Carl did not respond, but felt his face twist into a snarl at the man standing above him.  
Negan smiled. “Y’know, you do the same damn stink eye as your dad, ‘cept it’s only half as good ‘cause-- well, y’know. You’re missin’ an eye.”  
Carl looked down, away from the man’s gaze.   
Negan’s smile stretched into a grin, laughing when he saw that his words affected the teen; however, the smile disappeared after another moment of silence from Carl. “Really?” He paused, his hand still outstretched to the teenager below him. “You really not gonna take my hand? ‘Cause you’re lucky you even still have a hand.” Negan finally turned his head back to Daryl, who was standing in the fenced area with the walkers and watching the scene intently. “Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it. How’s the job goin’, Daryl? Hot enough for ya? Yeah, it’d be tough with one arm.” Negan looked back at Carl, a laugh wheezing through his throat.  
Carl sighed and reluctantly took Negan’s hand, hoisting himself off the ground.  
The two men reached the large iron double doors, and Dwight knocked twice before they opened for them. Only when they were inside the structure with the doors secured behind them did Dwight release his clutch on Carl’s collar, allowing the teenager a moment to cough and rub his neck in relief. He closed his eye and adjusted his bandage slightly; it had come slightly loose from him trying to keep his hat on his head on the trek to the building.  
“I bet the boss is dying to see you,” Dwight finally said. “Maybe you remember the way to his room.”  
Before Carl could process what Dwight had said much less respond, he heard heavy footsteps approaching, their slow gait echoing against the metal floor. Carl opened his eye and looked up, a familiar figure coming into view.  
“Well, well, well! Look what the fuck we have here,” Negan was practically beaming, his eyes taking Carl in excitedly. “If this ain’t the best damn reunion I ever seen.” Putting one gloved hand on Carl’s small shoulder and the other clutching Lucille, Negan shifted his gaze to Dwight, who was standing awkwardly next to the iron doors. “D, why don’t you tell my wives that I won’t be back upstairs after all?” Carl felt a horrible sense of deja vu wash over him. “I gotta catch up with Rick Grimes’s son. We got a shit ton to talk about.”


End file.
